


The Bad Seed

by oddtwist



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Lizzington - Freeform, Psychoanalysis, Sexual Tension, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddtwist/pseuds/oddtwist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reddington and Liz spend an evening drinking Frederick Hemstead's homebrew, discussing Byron, forbidden pleasures and the feelings they have for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_”There be none of Beauty’s daughters with magic like thee_

_And like music on the waters, is thy sweet voice to me.”_

This coming from a man whose voice had that deeply rich, laconic quality and, if he was in the right mood with its timbre hiding in a whisper, a peculiar quiver that vibrated inside your veins - it was the perfect example that Raymond Reddington was not always aware of the effect he had on people.

“Are you familiar with the work of Byron, Lizzy?” he asked in that same languid voice.

Red sat next to her in his favorite spot on the couch, a glass of Frederick’s special brew in hand, a copy of _Byron: Life and Legend_ open in his lap. They had spent the evening in Frederick Hemstead’s room – working together, talking literature and art, drinking and generally enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence.

“Lord Byron was somewhat of a celebrity in his day and age, I believe.” Liz answered.

“Yes,” Red said. “He was probably the first celebrity _ever_ and a great poet indeed. They say he was a handsome man, although he was born with a club foot. A fellow poet described his eyes as open portals to the sun.”

Liz put the file she had been studying aside to give Red her full attention. She had grown used to these little introductions leading up to the point he was trying to make. Something had been on his mind for some time now. She had noticed the slight change in attitude towards her over the last few weeks. While Liz had started to feel more comfortable working with him, Reddington seemed to create a distance between them.

“Aside from leaving us insanely lengthy, yet intriguing poems and the riveting story of his life and times, Byron is also a household name in psychology, as you are well aware.”

“The Byronic bad boy.” Liz stated.

“I prefer the term Byronic Hero myself but the man was interesting enough to be the subject of numerous, immensely intriguing studies when it comes to the attraction the archetypal bad boy has on the opposite sex.” He held her gaze for a moment. “Why _do_ women tend to lust after evil men, I wonder? Why do they feel the urge to conquer them even though they are very much aware of the danger?”

“Being intimate with a man like that is like the thrill of breaking a major taboo, slightly dangerous and tremendously exciting.” Liz offered. She was after all an expert in this field, but at the same time well aware that Reddington knew far more about the dark side of human nature than he would ever take credit for. “Many women, especially young women, are fascinated by that quality in a man; the forbidden still holds a strong attraction, especially in attractive, charismatic, fatally flawed, yet possibly lethal men. Danger is sexy.”

“Hence the immense popularity of Hannibal Lecter.” he said with simple directness. “You know you shouldn’t because you’d be consorting with the devil, but still you go ahead with it, to fulfill a curious desire to know what it feels like when you have conquered the heart of an outcast who is on everybody’s lips.”

His reference to that particular fictional character made her lips curl up into a smile. Hannibal Lector hardly qualified as the typical Byronic bad boy, but there was an inside joke going around among the agents of the Task Force about agent Keen and her charming little psychopath. It seemed Reddington had gotten wind of it.

“Do you think of yourself as a bad _boy_ , Red?” she teased.

“It’s an archetype as you well know.” he said. “Age has nothing to do with it.”

He closed the book, poured himself another drink and settled against the arm of the couch, staring at her for a moment, with that indiscriminate glimpse in his eyes, nibbling on the inside of his cheek.

“How’s Tom?”

She was used to Red’s sudden changes in subject –there was always a reason and she would just patiently have to play his game to find out what it was. This particular question had been lingering in the air all evening. He knew when something was up, when she stayed with him longer than the job required – which seemed to occur rather frequently lately. He’d accurately sensed some friction at the home front.

“We had a row.” Liz said and finished her drink. “I don’t feel like going home to kiss and make up.” Her voice was defenseless, not hesitant in her revelation, as he would have expected.

“You surprise me, Lizzy. I would have thought you were the kind of woman who enjoyed a bit of makeup sex. Or has something else put you off?”

He locked eyes with her, taking in her reaction on the subject of her sexual tastes. They had discussed many a kinky subject professionally but aside from lame jokes, sex had never been a topic of discussion between them. For him to make such a direct erotic hint was a novelty, a means to an end. She squinted a bit, fixing her eyes on him, trying to determine where this was all going - this new game they were playing.

When Red had returned into her life after the raid on the Post office, they had come to an agreement concerning her husband. The subject of Tom would no longer be a point of discussion and Red had kept his end of the bargain. Instead of breaking off the conversation, Liz decided to go wherever it would take them, considering the strange mood Reddington seemed to be in.

“Tom and I are going through a difficult phase…..” she stated matter-of-factly. “ _I_ am going through a difficult phase.”

“You mean to tell me that you no longer love your husband, who is there for you whenever you need him, who worships you and is full of feeling and understanding: a man that stands by you every step of the way, no matter what?”

She gave him a bitter smile for the sarcasm in his voice, but he’d hit the nail right on the head. He knew her so well. Liz loved Tom, but the passion had gone. It had started with little things that annoyed her, things she should be grateful for – that should have actually made her feel privileged: his devotion and concern, the way he was able to interpret her ‘tells’ accurately. But it needled her that he could read her like an open book and anticipate her every need before she had even gotten the chance to find out for herself.

“I’m sorry, Lizzy.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not, “he conceded. “But I am sorry for _you_. It is never easy to let go of someone you were once very much in love with.”

“It feels like betrayal. “ She spoke in a tired voice, rather surprised that she was quite unemotional about it.

This was the first time she admitted it to someone, but she had already come to terms with the fact that she and Tom were over. She only felt guilty about refusing to deal with it; cowardly avoiding telling her husband how she really felt, for she knew it would all come down to the suspicions Raymond Reddington had planted in her brain. Tom would refuse to believe that her decision had nothing to do with that. The fact that Red had driven a wedge between them with his wild accusations was but of minor importance. In the years they had been married, Tom had become her partner, her friend, her trusted companion, whom she truly loved, but no longer like a wife. No longer like a lover. He was no longer the most important person in her life.

“It feels like I’m cheating on my husband with you and I don’t even feel guilty about it.”

She offered her empty glass and he poured her another drink.

“I met a very wise man in South Africa once.” Red said. “He served me dinner at the Shady Pines in Middelburg, which was a very shady hotel indeed. Dreadful beds! But he was a wonderful cook and somewhat of a philosopher. He told me that when a man cheats, it is because he is a dog. When woman cheats, it is because her man is a dog.”

“Tom is not a dog.” she said, slightly annoyed.

“Perhaps you realized that you are not really attracted to safe and decent men that make good fathers. Maybe you are attracted to men like Byron, the ones that are mad, bad and dangerous to know.”

She raised her eyebrows a bit – back to the game then. She was still not sure where this was going, but up until now, Raymond Reddington was delivering a damned good analysis of agent Keen’s mental state.

“You _did_ spend a large part of your life studying men like that.” he went on. “Criminals with dark triad personalities, psychopaths and narcissists. You’ve always been fascinated by them, yet chose to marry safe. You should not underestimate the power of the laws of attraction, Lizzy. You of all people should know that.”

Liz eyed him steadily, charmingly surprised at the underlying meaning in his words.

“Are you asking me if I am attracted to you?”

Ever since he denied that he was her biological father, she had explored other possibilities for his obsession with her, but with that option out of the way, she’d also begun to regard him in another light. Knowing that he wasn’t her father didn’t help her understand him better, but the winkers she’d been wearing had vanished and she no longer regarded him as the possible father-figure; he was just a man, harboring oddly paternal feelings for her.

She had never spoken to him about the way he made her feel by placing her at the centre of his attention. He didn’t have a clue as to what it meant to be the apple of the devil’s eye. Time would prove if Raymond Reddington was just an eerie psychopath with a disturbing interest in a certain FBI profiler or an angel in disguise. Right now, he seemed the devil in disguise; a very attractive, seductive devil at that. Immaculately dressed as always in a stylish outfit, his complexion golden brown in the dim light, grey-blue eyes radiating warmth, confidence and ….. something else, something she had not witnessed before.

He put down his drink, straightened his waistcoat and sat and watched her for a moment, considering the options, then decided to take up the challenge.

There was something predatory in the way he slowly moved towards her on the couch, cornering her, leaning in close enough for her to smell his aftershave and the hint of bitterness from the indiscriminate brew he had been drinking.

“No.” His eyes bored into hers and his voice had dropped to a mere whisper, resonating in the air between their bodies. “I don’t need to ask you that. I _know_ that you are attracted to me. That is clearly evident when I look at you. I can see it in your eyes, your pupils are big and dilated. I can see it in the swelling of your lips and the flush upon your skin and your breathing ...it's … not as steady and calm as it should be.”

He was right of course. The way he caressed her bosom with his eyes was achingly sensual and quite literally took her breath away. Her jacket was suddenly too stuffy, too tight and beneath the off white blouse, her heart had begun to beat rapidly. She followed his gaze to her hands, and they both registered how she unwittingly stroked the scar; her pulse shuddering beneath her thumb.

“Like you, Lizzy, I am an expert on reading people. It is vital in my line of work, has been life saving on occasion and I think I am accurately interpreting your body language right now.”

Liz took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm, tried to clear her mind and ignore the sudden desire that washed over her. But it was impossible to remain adamant when the very signs Reddington had just described were quite evidently revealed in the language of his own body.

“You are attracted to deviant behavior,” he went on, his lips almost touching her cheek while he spoke. “Not only as a profiler but as a woman too. You have a deep yearning to relate to the criminal mind and following this line of thought, you therefore have a deep yearning to relate to _me_.”

He touched her.

He ‘d touched her numerous times, casual touches; a courteous hand on her back when he opened the door for her, a comforting stroke of the thumb, when she needed it, never unwanted, never perceived as an intrusion on her person, never a hint of suggestiveness about them. But the hand that was sliding around her, just below her breast, was like a blatant display of desire, electrifying - a revelation that gave all the earlier touches meaning.

Her body shivered at the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, eliciting an insolent flicker in his eyes that sent another jolt of passion straight down to her loins. Her breathing hitched when she tried to suppress the urge to close her eyes and let go, lose herself in his touches, deny him the satisfaction of seeing the pleasure in her eyes.

“I am your Byronic bad boy.” he breathed, the sonorous voice warm against her cheek, sure and suggestive; full of promise. And then, the tone changed into a chilly, bitter one. “And you so hate me for it.”

She went rigid, torn between shock and embarrassment. The hand was gone, leaving her cold and empty. He increased the distance between them, breaking the magic of the moment. The fire in his eyes, still feverish with lust, betraying the amount of self control it took for him to pull away. He withdrew to his safe corner of the couch and downed the rest of his drink in one long swallow before he spoke again, conversationally this time, detached.

“ _Don’t_ you?”

He did not look at her to hear her answer, but simply stared out of the window to watch the moonlight filtering through the trees; no longer acknowledging her, seemingly unmoved.

But Liz had seen the root of his uneasiness, had recognized his pain. Everything had been leading up to this and now was not the time to back out.


	2. Chapter 2

Liz was not a religious person. She didn’t believe that everything in life happened for a reason, by some sort of divine power. And she’d always thought it absurd to believe that life was predetermined; a long and winding yellow brick road you simply had to follow to find the wonderful wizard at the end. She was a firm believer in creating one’s own destiny. As the child of a single parent, she had accepted responsibilities at an early age and had carefully started planning everything in her life. Schools, university, marriage, Quantico, adoption, the FBI …... she’d already mapped out her career with the Bureau when all that was thoroughly deranged the day that Raymond Reddington kneeled down on the bronze seal at FBI Headquarters to turn himself in. Her entire future obliterated by an act of surrender. A cruel twist of fate.

Liz did not underestimate the factor of chance in life, sometimes even feared that everything was based on pure coincidence. It pulled the rug out from under all her careful planning; the realization that something as important as one’s destiny might purely be based on randomness, the decision to take a left turn instead of going right like you always did. Yet it had. Only a few minutes ago everything had changed by pure chance.

She had no idea why she hadn’t shut her eyes. God knows she _wanted_ to, so Red would not see the need inside them, the pure joy evoked by that simple touch and the nearness of his body. But she had kept her eyes open and had _seen_ \- in the barest fraction of a second she had seen the change in his expression that would forever determine their relationship.

She hadn’t moved, still sat in her corner of the couch, staring at Reddington, his question echoing in her brain, like a distant cry from reality. Heart-rate back to normal, sobered by his curt attitude, the thrill of excitement still pleasantly tingling in her belly. But that could also be the effect of the alcohol - she was no longer able to tell the difference. She straightened her shoulders, pushed her embarrassment in the farthest corner of her soul and took a deep breath to help her face the music.

“Is that what you would like to hear?”  she asked, voice perfectly calm and under control. “That I hate you?”

With a spark of renewed interest, he tore himself away from his favorite view to meet her piercing, penetrating gaze.

“The truth will do.”

“Like the truths you have been dishing out, to scare me off with your little games?

“You’re still here aren’t you?” He actually seemed surprised she was, but pleased nonetheless, her cheeks a little rosier, a new gleam dancing in her eyes.

“Your cruel games don’t just make feelings go away, Red. Yes, I am attracted to you and you should have taken into account the human factor before you started all this. It’s entirely your own fault.”

She ignored his indignant little laugh and grabbed the bottle from the table, popped the cork and poured herself some more liquid courage.

“Do you have _any_ idea what you have done to me?” she asked, looking hard at him, trying to find the words to vocalize the jumble of feelings inside her. The grey eyes glittered back in a _do tell_ -expression. “You come into my life and change everything I have ever lived for. You ruin my marriage…”

" I thought we had just established that you are the only one who can claim responsibility for that particular issue.” he cut her off, voice drier than Frederick’s brew, but she did not bite.

“You ruin my relationship with Tom, tell me all sorts of vague stories about my past, act as if you know me, make me a partner in your grand scheme to bring down the baddies of this world …… do you have any idea what this is doing to me?”

“I’m sorry Lizzy, I am doing this for a reason.”  A genuine apology. ”Please bear with me.”

She took a moment to control her temper which threatened to suffocate the words in her throat -resisted the urge to calm her nerves with more liquor. His placid tone of voice was infuriating. If he told her one more time to exert due diligence then she would strangle him with his Borelli tie.

“You are making it very hard for me to accept you as my guardian angel. Keeping me safe from harm? You have a funny understanding of this task, because since you came into my life, I’ve been shot at, beaten, tortured, nearly executed by your dear old friend Garrick, got thrown out of a moving ambulance and the prospect of disappearing from the face of the earth in a bathtub full of smelly chemicals really tops my list of all time favorites. And you have the nerve to tell me I can trust you and you will keep me safe?”

 “I already humbly admitted to you and dear old Harold, that I am not perfect, Lizzy. I do try.”

“If you’re trying to ruin my life I must admit that you are doing one hell of a job.”

“I am not trying to ruin your life, although it may seem so to you. Please trust me when I say this.”

She glanced at his tie, toyed with her glass to calm down and continued with less of a cutting edge than he expected.

“Red, did you realize when you started all this that I would either hate you with a passion or fall in love with you?”

From the look on his face she concluded that he clearly hadn’t. 

“You're all I have left.” There was nothing as powerful as the plain and simple truth.  “Sam is dead, my husband gone, my co-workers don’t trust me and Ressler probably thinks I’m sleeping with you. The only one I can rely on is you and you are the most unreliable person I have ever met.”

He seemed to take that as a compliment, but his expression changed when he saw that she was genuinely affected. He filled his glass with another four fingers and listened patiently, her words sobering him up, despite the refill that burned in his throat. Her tone was light and deceptive, camouflaging the tension building up inside from all the emotions she had suppressed in the last few months.

“Byronic bad boy, Svengali, Rasputin or whatever label you want to use, you’re it. And you are surprised that the object of your affection is attracted to you? When you keep looking at me in that funny way, putting me on a pedestal like I'm some sort of Joan of Arc with an FBI badge? What kind of effect did you think it would have on me when a man like you, legendary and larger than life, charismatic, enigmatic, dangerous and handsome, tells me with that weird look in his eyes that I am so very special to him? So special even, that he is willing to give his life for me at the drop of a hat.”

 “I wasn’t aware I tend to look at you in a funny way. I’ll try to refrain from that in future.”

With another apologetic smile around his lips, he put down his drink and turned to her on the couch to give her his full attention. They had passed the joking stage.

 “We both know what is going on, Lizzy.” He said, thoughtfully, picking his way carefully. Liz was being unusually frank with him and he suspected that the alcohol was only partly to blame. ” Don’t fall in love with a non existing dark secret, the flaws that make me human, my past that will undoubtedly explain why I do the bad things I do. Don’t try to heal me. I am not like that, Lizzy. I am a criminal. When all this is over, it will not be revealed that I am a heroic country loving spy who has been working undercover for over twenty years, sacrificing himself for God and country. I am not Robin Hood; I am in this business for me, myself and I alone. No heroics, no hidden agenda, I am what I have become; a criminal and I will never change into the man you would like me to be.”

“I know you are a criminal. “Liz said and threw his own words right back at him.”Criminals are notorious liars and you Red, are the epitome of all liars.”

 “Well, liar or not, believe me when I say that I had never anticipated that you would fall in love with me.”

It suddenly felt weird having this conversation with him, yet there was no stopping now. It wasn’t that simple. Nothing about Raymond Reddington ever was.

“Let me enlighten you about human nature, Red – give you a tour of my psyche. When someone lifts you up, makes you feel special and constantly feeds you with little pieces of the puzzle of your life, little tidbits to keep you hooked: it creates a need. A need for more. Not just more of the _same_ , because with that need comes greed and you want it _all_. It is as addictive as a drug and the craving for more makes me an addict: it is all I have left to live for and I keep running back to you for more.”

The words spoken gently but deliberate, washed over Red and for the umpteenth time he regretted his decision to involve Elizabeth Keen in his life.

“I didn’t fall in love with you, Red, because I don’t even _know_ you. I am attracted to you. I need you. There’s a difference. Love has nothing to do with it. And it’s not the reason why you are creating this distance, not the reason for warning me off. It’s not _me_ that is the problem here; it’s you.”

There it was again - the sudden flicker of pain in his eyes, giving him away. She was on the right track.

He put down his drink and stood. Until this moment it had all been a game, a little exciting, a little dangerous; but Reddington did not permit himself many potentially risky games with this particular player. She was too important. And he was no longer in control.

“It’s late.” he said in a tone that clearly indicated that the conversation was over. “We both had more than our share of drinks. I’ll wake up Demby so he can drive you home.”

She looked up at him, her shrewd gaze appraising him. She had crossed the line in the sand and he was annoyed with himself that he didn’t see it coming.

“There is a long list of words that could describe the enigma of Raymond Reddington - coward is not one of them.”

“Maybe that list needs revision.” he said curtly and picked up the overcoat she had draped over a chair on arrival.

He waited wordlessly while she gathered her things and picked up her pen when it dropped out of her file folder. He handed it over, totally unprepared for the cold steel that closed around his wrist with a soft click, immediately followed by another click when she cuffed the other end of the shackles to the frame of the chair beside him. She then took the pen from him with a thank you.

“Now sit down, please. We’re not quite done yet.”


	3. Chapter 3

This was the second time Elizabeth Keen had literally taken him by surprise. Subconsciously he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, near the spot where she’d stabbed him with a pen all those months ago. She was something else. Never a disappointment, but he wisely refrained from telling her so. He stared her down, amusement in his eyes, but she would not budge.

“If you intend to spend the night snuggled up against a Dante chair, then be my guest.” she said.”But I suggest you take a seat.”

“Demby is right upstairs.”

Liz realized that she would probably regret her alcohol-induced bravery in the morning, but Red had started this whole thing and she would damn well see it to the end - with or without his voluntary cooperation.

“I could gag you.”  Her eyes widened. That was definitely the alcohol talking. She was going to hate herself in the morning.

“Wouldn’t that be fun!” Red slowly lowered himself in the chair. Apparently he’d decided to humour her. “What do you hope to accomplish, Lizzy? We’ve been through this before. Me chained to a chair, you asking the questions, bossing me around. Do you think you will have better luck with me this time?”

There was a seductive quality in his voice - challenging. She ignored it. She was done playing games.

 “Circumstances were different back then, with a whole task force of FBI agents breathing down my neck. This time it’s just you and me and I get to ask the questions that really matter.”

 She vividly remembered walking up to him for the first time. Legs like jelly, heart pounding in her chest, nerves tightening her throat - dangerously close to hyperventilation. Red sitting there seemingly docile, engaging her in polite conversation, as if the rest of the world did not exist. She had learned a lot since then.

“Do you intend to spank the truth out of me?” he asked, still amused. “I should warn you, Lizzy.  Anslo already tried that and look where it got him. Now kindly uncuff me.”

“No. I don’t want you walking out on me.” She picked up his glass to pour him another one in the hope it might lower his guard.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, agent Keen?” He relaxed into his seat and Liz’ confidence wavered. Raymond Reddington was back in his element, probably enjoying himself immensely about the way she was making a fool of herself. “That would be very unwise. I’ve been known to tell a tall tale in the thrall of alcohol.”

“You’re quite capable of telling tall tales without alcoholic beverages.” she stated. “Impressing me with your stories about cooks and philosophers, spies and housewife counterfeiters, killers, cutthroats and the occasional femme fatal. Luring me with the desire to be part of your adventure, sweeping me off my feet with that exciting sparkle in your eyes that says: stick with me and I’ll show you the heavens.”

It vaguely occurred to her, that it would be a prudent move to shut up. She was doing all the talking instead of him. She had no inhibitions left and lost herself in the mishmash of thoughts she actually spoke out loud. Unwise probably, _definitely_ , but there was no stopping now. The time had come to lure Raymond Reddington out of his box; break down the walls he had so carefully erected around himself. She allowed herself a deep breath to clear her mind and continued, hoping she would finally get him exactly where she wanted him.

“You may not be aware of it but you are planting these little seeds inside me, nurturing the notion I’ve had all my life: that I’m different and destined for something else. I‘ve always felt different and not in a good way. My father a criminal, my mother a mental wreck - always afraid that criminal behavior or insanity was ingrained in my genes.” She had never told anyone about that. Not even Sam or Tom. The feeling had been festering deep inside and had never left her. “And enter Raymond Reddington. Planting these little seeds all over the place, feeding on my doubts and weaknesses, shaking my foundations, making me betray my colleagues, forcing me to work together with criminals instead of the law, openly consorting with the enemy. Do you know what this means for my career? When you and I are done, _I’m_ done. My career is over. No one is going to ever trust me again. “

“Time will tell.” Red said sympathetically.” Do not close the book on yourself just yet, Lizzy.”

Another knockdown argument. Her cheeks flushed as the blood inside her began to boil and the all too familiar urge to hit him almost kicked out her last shred of common sense. But she forced herself to focus on the heart of the matter. It was far better to hit him with some home truths, that would put some dents in his armor.

“When you … toyed with me just now, you did not just do it to discourage me; to show me that you could ever be interested in me like that. Fact is; you _are_. I can read body language too, Red and in your particular case, it was hard not to notice your … enthusiasm. But what’s far more interesting is why you do not act on your feelings. You are Raymond Reddington, right? You have no scruples and when a woman shows interest in you, then you pursue it. Why not with me? What makes me so special? “

“You are being presumptuous, Lizzy. Did it ever occur to you that you might not be my type?”

She shook her head. “There’s something holding you back and the way I see it, there are two options.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You lied about being my father.”

She left that dangling in the air between them for a moment, but he did not give her more than the simple raising of an eyebrow. “Which is gross, yes, considering what just went down between us, so I am ruling out that option for good.”

“Good. That leaves us with option number two.”

“Option number two is the only option that makes sense and therefore a winner.” She lowered herself to her knees before him to look him in the eye. “I remind you of the women you love.”

He flinched. Reddington actually flinched before he slowly reached for his drink and downed it in one gulp.

She was speculating here, going on a hunch, but he had just confirmed that she was right. There was no amused little laugh, no clever joke, no tall story - his inability to say anything at all was like a screaming confirmation. The raw truth in Red’s expression told her that she was right.

That’s what she had seen when he’d touched her. That same vulnerable quality Sam used to get when he looked at a picture of his late wife; sadness and warmth in his expression while fond memories of long forgotten days washed over him, mixed with the cold reality of his loss. She had seen the exact same expression in Reddington’s eyes.

A myriad of questions unleashed inside her. Who was this woman? Did she look like Liz? Was that the reason for his weird glances? Was she still alive? Were they related? Was that the reason for Red’s interest in Elizabeth Keen?  What was their connection? Liz knew she could not be sure of anything anymore. She feared that her entire past was based on a lie.

“When you look at me, you see the woman you love.” she probed on, determined to make him admit it - get him to talk. “That’s why you are creating this distance between us, that’s why you refuse to let me get close. It hurts.”

He stared at her enigmatically now. Despite the considerable percentages in his blood, he was still very much in control.

 “There you go again, finding excuses for my behavior, so you can feel better about yourself being attracted to a monster. Don’t forget who I am, Lizzy.  I am ruthless, manipulative and play with people’s feelings when it serves my purpose. I use people, Lizzy, nothing more nothing less. I am using you too.”

“Yes you are.” She agreed, knowing full well that he was only telling her half truths. “You _have_ been using me. As a surrogate. You love me.”

Liz saw the exact moment when awareness from within lit through Red the very second she had finished speaking.

“ _Don’t_ you?”

There was a long silence in which the truth lay plainly in his eyes for all the world to see, but he didn’t say it. He just stared at her, biting the inside of his cheek, chewing on the words that were boiling under the surface.

“Everything alright?”

They hadn’t heard Dembe approach. He stood in the door, taking in the scene before him - Red chained to the chair and Lizzy on her knees before him; both visibly flushed, both a little drunk.

Red snapped out of it first. He cleared his throat to be sure his vocal chords would actually produce a steady sound when he spoke.

“Yes, Dembe, everything’s fine.” He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs, with Liz in between. “Our relationship has evolved into fascinating role-playing now.” He tugged at the handcuff with a reassuring smile.” Not to worry, although I’m not quite sure about who’s supposed to be the submissive one in this little game. Agent Keen will be leaving shortly. Would you be kind enough to drive her home?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, and Dembe, please don’t be alarmed about any spanking sounds. That’s just agent Keen acting out her fantasies, bossing me around.” He looked at Liz and gave her a wink. “I promise not to make _too_ much noise, I know you like the strong silent types, suffering beautifully but quietly. I’m quite good at that actually.”

When she stirred, he instinctively braced himself, expecting nothing short of a slap in the face. But she graciously rose to her feet, knowing full well that his walls were up again, defenses back in place; distancing himself with his sordid jokes.

She gave him a penetrating stare which he returned in silent understanding - there was something new inside them, mirrored in each other’s eyes, frighteningly fragile, yet so real that neither wanted to break the spell. But this was as far as Red was willing to let it go tonight. Liz decided not to torment him any longer.

“Could you please bring the car around, Dembe.” she said and gathered her things. “I’ll just leave you to it, Red. I know you prefer playing with yourself in private.”

She gave him her warmest smile and strode out of the room without bothering to unlock the cuffs.

 

*

 

Raymond Reddington was up until dawn in the library, with only his bittersweet memories of the past to keep him company. When he finally closed his eyes, his soul comfortably numbed by Frederick’s elixir, there was a faint smile around his lips, for he had learned one important thing tonight;  if anyone was able to rip the bad seed from his heart and make him renounce the man he had become it would be Elizabeth Keen.

 

*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the Lizzington fans out there are not too disappointed that 'nothing happened' between Red & Liz, but this was just not the right story for romance. Sometimes you set out to write one thing but end up doing quite the opposite, because the characters steer you in another direction. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading, commenting and kudoing. I’m always interested to know what you think!


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